Melancholy Melody
by Elfie Baggins
Summary: A collection of drabbles about my favorite Critical Role ship, PikeLan! Please prepare for angst, (hopefully) humor and a little romance. *I do not own the characters, cover art, music, I only own the story itself*
1. House of the Rising Sun

House of the Rising Sun / Pikelan

 **(AN: The two songs found in this drabble can be found on Ashley Johnson's SoundCloud account:** **/ashleysuzanne** **.)**

" _What's my mother's name?!"_

Pike had experienced many horrors in her time. Being with Vox Machina had let her bare witness to such death and misery, to even experience them first hand. However, the horror of those moments couldn't compare to the anger resting on her Bard's face, and the pain it brought her..

His laughter lines were contorted due to bared teeth, twinkling eyes stamped out by vicious eyebrows, and when he barked, his voice was coarse. Her Bard was bitter. Layers of what she now knew to be lies were peeled back, revealing a creature she did not know. He screamed and spat, gestured and swore. He turned her blood ice cold.

Her Beloved Bard then vanished, swept past with a resigned sadness and isolation. And though (deep down) Pike knew choosing Kayliee was the morally right decision, the heartache was almost too much to bare. He never looked back before he left. Not one look to show he would miss them, miss her.

She'd once said to him that in her darkest moments, feigning happiness was the only way to keep everyone else afloat. Though the disapproval and worry were clear, he couldn't disagree. It was still funny to her that even though she was usually more far than near, undeniably she was the mother of Vox Machina. Pike Trickfoot: VM's backbone, support system, and designated resurrector.

But being the protector didn't allow public grief. So as the tears fell fat and scorching, she scratched them from her face with rigid movements. Choosing instead to turn towards Vex and pull her in for a mamma bear hug. The rest evening was sobre and angry, each member struggling with the guilt, pain, and loss in individual ways.

The dawn brought no comfort to her, nor any of the others she imagined. Pike didn- couldn't sleep. She lay awake waiting out the night gripping onto his letter like a liferaft. For all the comfort it brought, she refused to read it, feeling undeserved of the love and trust he poured into it. Her bitter-sweet Bard. She had failed him. Instead, when the light peeped through uninvited, Pike unfurled and washed, adorned her armour and went down to eat. People were of need of her and Scanlan needed time... But he would come back. She repeated those words throughout the tired motions of the day, a mantra she had to believe for the sake of her sanity.

As expected, everyone looked worse now than after the battle. Vox Machina had dealt with the loss of Scanlan's life with actions of protection but this loss felt so much ... more. More painful, more encompassing, more hurtful. Her Bard certainly knew how to make his exits just as dramatic as his entrances.

Pike listened patiently to their planning, knowing full well that she would be exempt from Keyleth's big moment. With all the broken pieces of her heart, she prayed to Sarenrae, begging for their protection. A gust of warm wind blew and Pike knew she'd been heard.

She watched on in amusement when they spoke to a gentleman wearing even shinier armour than herself, quickly realising that although they carried a crater through their hearts, they'd pull through it. Vox Machina would greet her Bard on the other side as better people. Well, she smiled to herself, perhaps not better, but certainly wiser.

All too soon her name was called and Pike wished goodbye to all her family, sending them away with a kiss and an assslap for good measure. When she would see them again was not assured, but knowing them, her Astro-form would be called for before long.

The ruins of Emmon allowed no time for grieving, and the day was quickly swallowed up by healing and helping. The pile of the dead loomed tall, something everyone kept aware of in their tasks. The war had touched everyone it seemed. Before long her magic had been completely exhausted but she refused to be sidelined. Pike scurried for supply runs, loved ones, and basic non-magical healing when it could be used. Sarenrae's will was for her to serve this way and it was a duty she wouldn't shy away from.

By the time Pike was left by herself, the blue sky had come over in a brouse. Purple, black and blue watercolour lay overhead streaked with the trailing smoke still drifting from the Cloud-top district. It was late (though the the exact time was unknown) and her weary feet found themselves walking to the keep.

It was quite inside. The servants, she assumed, were either asleep or helping somewhere, and the guards knew better than to trouble her in a time like this. Pad after pad, clank after clank, she let her body take her to where it wanted to go. Her Bard's room.

"Oh.. of course." She sighed half in amusement and half in pain. The walls were still coated in pudding. So as night fell, pike stripped herself of armour, both figurative and literal, and began to wash the walls and linen. Time went by with no disruption. Her movements and eventually small sobs filling the aching husk of his room, and (in some ways) filing herself. It had been a while since he had truly slept here, but some pockets of the room still held his scent. That strong smell of flute oil, lube, perfume and musk. She would never have guessed it would become a thing of comfort.

It took her roughly two hours in total, and as she washed herself, she didn't have the heart to leave. Instead opting for something better.

With tired steps, Pike walked to her old room and prayed she had forgotten it in the move. Much to her joy, she pulled the guitar from its wall mount. It had been a gift for her birthday a few years back. Scanlin had taught her to play after hearing her sing to distract some goblins. She never found much time to play, adventuring does tend to put a damper on music practise, but in long evenings her voice tended to be strong alongside his, finding those harmonies that they together made perfect.

She gently tuned as she walked to his room, finally resting on his bed and twigging on her earing just for adjusted and began to play.

" _There is a house in New Orleans_

 _They call the Rising Sun,_

 _And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy,_

 _And God I know, I'm one..._

" _My mamma was a tailor,_

 _She sewed my new blue jeans,_

 _My father was a gambling man,_

 _Down in New Orleans..._

" _And the only thing a Gambler needs,_

 _Is a suitcase and a trunk,_

 _And the only time he's satisfied,_

 _Is when he's all drunk..._

" _So mothers tell your children,_

 _Not to do what I have done:_

 _Spend your life in misery,_

 _In the House of the Rising Sun..."_

She finished with a soft strum.

"That was the first song you taught me, and remember how I told you it was too hard? But you were determined. 'You're a beast' you said, 'I'm sure you can handle a few little strings.'" Pike chuckled quietly. "And I did. It took a while but we got there, didn't we? ... Well, it took me even longer still, but I wrote this for you. As I said it took me a while, but I had the perfect opportunity for some secrecy being away so much. You never gave us your birthday, so I was planning on showing you when we had a quiet moment after all of ... this." She gestured around the room vaguely.

"I'm not going to shame you for leaving us. I know you had reasons, some good, some idiotic, but reasons regardless. I think I'll show you now, if that's okay? I don't know how long you'll be gone, and I hope you don't mind me talking to you like this... I don't think I can handle losing y..." Her voice trailed into silence. "I'm just going to play if that's okay with you."

" _Yeah I, tell you something,_

 _I think you'll understand,_

 _Yeah I, tell you something,_

 _I wanna hold your hand,_

" _I wanna hold you hand,_

 _I wanna hold your hand,_

" _Please, say to me,_

' _I wanna be your man',_

 _Yeah please, say to me,_

 _I wanna hold your hand,_

" _I wanna hold your hand,_

 _I wanna hold your hand,_

" _And when I touch you,_

 _I feel happy inside,_

 _It's such a feeling that, my love,_

" _I can't hide,_

 _I can't hide,_

 _I can't hide..."_ Her voice cracked as her eyes welled up.

" _Yeah you, got that something,_

 _I think you understand,_

 _Yeah you, got that something,_

 _I want to hold your hand,_

" _I wanna hold your hand,_

 _I wanna hold your hand..._

" _I wanna hold your hand,_

 _I wanna hold your hand..."_

Quietly, she placed the guitar onto the floor, and curled up on her side. "Be safe for me, Okay?" She whispered to the earing. "Return safe and sound, promise me... please..." Her body seized and sobs fell from her lips. Wheasy, childlike screams of pain. Her face scrunched and she felt so alone, so very alone in this room that used to be occupied by so much more than she.

A while passed before her body couldn't take any more stress, and the crying subsided. But she didn't feel better, she just felt hollow.

With a shaky sigh, she took to the earing once more before she slept. "I love you, Scanlan Shorthalt."


	2. Holy Shit: Pikelan prompt drabble 1

**Holy Shit: Prompt Drabble #1**

"You look after others too much."  
"Why is that such a bad thing?"  
"Because you forget to look after yourself."  
"Psh, I thought you did that for me."

"Pike." Scanlan's tone was a tad harsher than it perhaps should have been, but his face snapped towards hers with urgency. "You can't keep doing that, joking off anything about your well-being. What if I'm not here-"

"Are you planning on leaving again?" She interrupted. There was a trace of paranoia in her tone.

"Don't be daft. It's just a hypothetical. Well, perhaps not with the death rate of this group. It's just you can't keep going at this speed. You'll burn out at both ends."

"I know, I know" She huffed lightly, "but what else can I do? I carry everyone's "wellbeing" with me every moment of the day. I don't have a choice."

"There is always a choi-"

"Bullshit!"

Pike straightened suddenly, her eyes boring into his face with frustration.

"There IS no choice! I am the healer, mother, sister, and friend. I'm not always there, but even my fucking spirit is called forth from my body because you fucking need me!"

Quiet settled over them for a while as pike slowly calmed.

"Look," she sighed, "It's not that I don't love you all, nor hate being called to the fray, but you can't have it both ways. Either I take care of you, or you take care of me. Doing both just ends with a mediocre treatment all around."

Scanlan fell onto his back feeling somewhat irritated with Pike's view point. On the one hand he understood her. He understood what it feels like for others to depend on your happiness, something he had kept secret to the point of having to abandon them, but he also saw how desperately the others would take care of her if she caved in and admitted her feelings. To be honest, the close alignment between what she was describing and what he went through made him shiver. He wanted her to know that he got it, that he's felt the same, but just as she said, he couldn't do that without compromising her psychi.

Instead, he stared up at the stars and mapped the constellations out in his mind. Pollux the Elf, the Beholder, the Wand, they were are glittering out proudly amongst the several planets he didn't know. He was still thinking of a response when Pike grudgingly lowered herself down and rested her head on his chest, her eyes taking in the night sky as well.

"I will always love you, Pikey-Pants," Scanlan ran his fingers gently through her white hair, surprised yet again at its softness. " Come rain, shine, fire, and water. I will follow you to the end of my days, perhaps to the end of all days." Pike just laughed.

"You may not believe me," he continued. "And I don't blame you. For a long time since we met I was a pathetic creature wanting to fuck the first beautiful woman I saw. But I know now, and that's enough for me."

Pike crawled up even closer to him and lifted herself up, her hair dangling as a shield between them and the voyeuristic world. "And what do you know, Mr. Shorthault?" The amusement in her tone split his face into an easy grin.

"Just that you're perfect, Miss Trickfoot. And how making you laugh will always be enough for me."

"You're so full of shit, Scanlan."

"I know, but I love you, and isn't that what love is?"

"Shut up."

Pike's lips reached his own, and that was enough.


End file.
